


Star Strangled Bangers and Mash

by 50NoriStars



Series: Star Hero Post [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, M/M, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21622102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50NoriStars/pseuds/50NoriStars
Summary: Alfred took one look at smirking, long haired, grizzle chinned actor Francis Bonnefoy holding a press conference and immediately wanted to strangle him. NOT in a sexy way.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia)
Series: Star Hero Post [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1470365
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

"Bangers and Mash again, Arthur? You should eat hamburgers instead of pushing potatoes around, stop your hands shaking in no time!" Alfred tapped a hamburger against Arthur's forehead that remained furrowed in concentration. 

Arthur was eating lunch his third recuperation day at Dr. Edelstein’s mansion, in a dimly lit library he’d spent all morning dusting and shelving new books for something to do. His progress was slow however, as he was forced to use a gait trainer walker to keep from falling, and his arms and hands were equally uncoordinated. Still, he was more coordinated than his Italian caregiver Feli who dropped things due to sheer clumsiness. Yet Feli was an excellent cook, hence the flavorful Italian Bangers and Mash dish before him. 

"Useless git bangers. Move this way potato wankers." He snuffed from the effort of using his knife right handed to balance the last tidy bites of lunch onto the fork in his left hand. 

Alfred snuffed mockingly in turn, around huge bites of hamburger. "So British! The way you eat takes foreverrrrrrr!"

Once finished Arthur shakily set down his cutlery, shakily slid his plate to one side, shakily lifted his napkin to dab marsala wine sauce from his mouth, then whack! Smoothly whacked Alfred across his loudly chewing mouth with the greasy bag his hamburgers came in. 

"Hey!" Alfred exclaimed, finished chewing loudly, then grinned. "Well the violence was smooth." 

"Yes. Quite." Arthur's prim mouth tilted up slightly at the corners, then he nodded gratefully at Feli when that caregiver clumsily plonked flavorful plum and parmesan scones before him along with lukewarm tea in a child’s tea set before running back to Dr. Edelstein’s sunny kitchen. "Now perhaps you can work your anger adrenaline inducing magic on my Fisher Price cry and learn tea set." He told Alfred. 

"Arthur, it's a Laugh and Learn tea set. I know 'cause Matty owned one when we were kids." Alfred recalled, then cocked his head in confusion. "But Matty called it a cry and learn set too.”

__Arthur gave him a knowing look, shakily slid the tea set closer to himself and away from Alfred, then said, as if Alfred’s brother Matthew was in the room with them. “Matty, my sincerest Squidgy apologies at Alfred’s mangling your tea set.”_ _

__Alfred looked around, confused. “Huh? Why you talking to Matty when he’s not here? And what the fuck’s a Squidgy anway?”_ _

__Arthur frowned at Alfred more than the tea pot he kept fumbling. “"Squidgy’s a name. My brute brother Alastair's pet name for me. Same as you call Matthew Naggy Matty. Who incidentally, has been waiting on the phone to speak with you for some time now." Arthur nodded at Alfred’s cell phone on the table to make Alfred exclaim._ _

__“Fuck, Matty’s still on the phone? Not that it matters, I forget he exists all the time.”_ _

__“Ugh.” Arthur winced, then spoke to the air again. “More Squidgy apologies, Matty.”_ _

__“Thank you, Arthur. And Alfred, you did mangle my tea set.” Matthew’s whiney voice confirmed to make Alfred sneer._ _

__“The fuck I mangled it, Matty! I saved it from ridicule by turning it into football cannon fodder.”_ _

__“You turned me into football fodder tooooooooooooo, Als.”_ _

__“Yuh. But that was from throwing footballs, the toy got the CANNON treatment.”_ _

__“Urf.” Arthur winced a second time and brought a shaky hand to his forehead to make Alfred hug him and kiss his ears for speaking too loud._ _

__“Sorry, sorry Arthur.” He attempted a sneak a kiss on the mouth too, only to get another fast food bag smack._ _

__“There will be none of THAT until I’m properly functioning. Now go speak to Matty in Feli’s sunny kitchen.” Arthur waved a shaky frustrated hand at the dimly lit library he himself thrived in because he was British, but American Alfred and Italian Feli were sick of after only three days._ _

__“Hah! You function just fine when pissed, so all I gotta do is piss you off enough for sexy time! But okay, okay.” Alfred surrendered to Arthur’s pleading look behind drooping eyelids. Poor man. Alfred thought, as Arthur could barely keep his eyes open after the potato rich lunch, yet his back remained stiffly straight. So British! Alfred marveled, and fantasized about making Arthur’s back arch during sex._ _

__Arthur however had one thought, that Alfred talk to his brother, or so his pleading green eyes continued to communicate. Sadly, Arthur’s beloved older brother had died just weeks before, so Alfred blowing off his living brother was out of the question._ _

__“Fine. I’ll talk to Matty, or at least pretend to until he hangs up to cry in his pancakes.” Alfred assured his still grieving crush, then stomped into the kitchen to find Feli fast asleep on a cushioned window seat. “That quickly? How?” He murmured, as he always had trouble sleeping, except for the night of Arthur’s seizure when he slept with Arthur to keep an eye on him. “Oh alright, Mats!” Alfred huffed into his phone.” What is it? This thing that is SO important you can’t just mumble it and ghost off like usual.”_ _

__“It’s the media, Als!” Matthew cried, and Alfred imagined Matthew’s body and hair squiggle vibrating with intense worry. “Arthur’s brain injury is all over the news because his family is rich and famous. And with one Kirkland brother dead, there are all these conspiracy theories Arthur was injured on purpose for inheritance reasons.”_ _

__“What? No way!” Alfred scanned news articles on his smartphone, and fixed onto a live news stream. “Fuck! Shit, Mats! Why didn’t you tell me?”_ _

__“I’ve been tryiiiiiiiiing!”_ _

__“Whoah! This pansy ass French fuck’s even saying Arthur was kidnapped!” Alfred took one look at smirking, long haired, grizzle chinned actor Francis Bonnefoy holding a press conference and immediately wanted to strangle him. NOT in a sexy way. “The fuck does this French prick think he is? Saying Ludwig kidnapped Arthur. Wait, what? Now he’s saying he and Arthur are engaged? The fuck they are!”_ _

__“Er...Als? About Francis… er, that actor. There’s something I have to tell you…” Matthew’s voice sounded smaller and more Canadian all of a sudden, which was always a bad sign. However, at precisely that moment Alfred was too busy fielding rage texts from Gilbert to listen so he just hung up and called Gilbert._ _

__“Gilbert, no way! Ludwig quit being Arthur’s doctor because of Bonnefoy? No FUCKING way! I chose him. I'm the hero, he's the hero doctor. You tell him that?"_ _

__“Nein I did not tell him your hero shit, Alfred! I told him to stay for the town, but he said the town wurde be scandalized.”_ _

__“What, our town? Stars and Bars?”_ _

__“Ja, he said the town wurde be scandalized und unable to handle it.”_ _

__“The fuck my town can’t handle it! This is Stars and Bars, Alaska. Bonnefoy is nothing more than a pussy, strung out snowflake to us, not worth firing up a snow blower for. And if he thinks he can make headline news here in Alaska like in Los Angeles, he’s got another thing coming. ‘Cause I’m the Hero in Chief around here and no one makes more headlines than me.”_ _

__“Ja. You make news sometimes. But I make awesome news all the times! That is, when Luddy doesn’t stop me.” Gilbert groaned._ _

__“Yeah, Ludwig stops me too.” Alfred groaned in turn, then brightened as a thought hit him. “Hey, that’s it! That’s how we’ll keep Ludwig from leaving. We’ll tag team doing awesome publicity stunts to beat out Bonnefoy’s pussy stunts. And Ludwig will be so busy stopping me, then you, then me, then you, he’ll forget all about Bonnefoy.”_ _

__There was a pause as Gilbert processed the plan, then he erupted. “Ja. Ja. Das ist gut. Das ist fantastisch! Me first.”_ _

__Alfred smiled a smug smile. “Okay. You first, but me better.”_ _

__“You better, Amerikanisch! Never.”_ _

__“Oh yeah? Well game on, Kraut Face! May the best media whore win twelve Duck Fart shots.”_ _

__They both disconnected and Alfred barreled out of Dr. Edelstein’s mansion, body and cowlick pulsing with fierce determination. However, when he slammed the door shut behind him and roared off in his pickup truck... “Vay?” Feli jolted awake at the noise, then jolted a second time when he heard rustling in the bushes outside his window seat. Next thing he knew multiple cameras on poles sprung up to tap against the glass, and Feli was forced to roll off the seat and duck behind just in time to avoid getting his picture taken. “Eeeeeeeeee!” He screeched, more terrified that he hadn’t kept the kitchen’s blackout curtains closed per his house sitting boss’s orders. Quickly he reached up to close the window seat curtains, then scrambled on his belly to close the rest of the kitchen curtains before Dr. Edelstein’s voice could chastise him over an indoor security camera intercom. But once that crisis was averted, he scrambled to the kitchen door to see if his care giving charge was under paparazzi siege as well. Thankfully no, Arthur was sound asleep in the blacked out room, chin against chest even as his back remained ramrod straight._ _

__“Vay? How do British gentlemen do that?” Feli wondered, and pined for the comfy, sunny window seat that had been paparazzi free a moment ago. Oh well, he thought, then shrugged. There was only one way to reclaim his sunny kitchen and favorite nap spot, and that involved wearing a dress outside and brandishing Dr. Edelstein’s scariest looking skillet. So be it, he decided, and headed for Dr. Edelstein’s former housekeeper’s room to do just that._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred took one look at smirking, long haired, grizzle chinned actor Francis Bonnefoy holding a press conference and immediately wanted to strangle him. NOT in a sexy way.

Fourteen Kilometers away, at Star Hero Post, devastated and deceived Matthew texted his half brother Alfred. "Als I'm so sorry. Please don't kill me for letting Francis in our port, and letting him get naked in our inlet for a photo shoot. It's just that he's our half brother too. 'Cause his mom was Dad’s French lover before Dad met our moms. And whenever Francis sends me a rose and says he wants to visit me I think he means it, but he only ever wants to use our beach for photo shoots. That's why I never told you about him before. Because he'd only break your heart like he breaks mine, over and over. Maple!"

"Marceau. I look rugged, non?" Actor Francis Bonnefoy stood knee deep in the inlet, holding a wiggling live fish he'd caught with his bare hands against his male member as cameras clicked all around him. 

"That's not my name, and that's not your fish. That's Alfred's King Salmon he named Tony. Oh maple! Als is really gonna kill me if Tony dies"

Luckily for Matthew however, a shrill cackling voice suddenly called out from a nearby cliff to startle Francis into releasing Tony. "Yo butthole. Call those poses? I'll teach you about poses. Kesesese!" Gilbert gave a war cry as he cliff dived naked into the stream, even as a tiny yellow bird flew after him. The bird then buzzed around his head the second Gilbert surfaced from the water. "I'll teach you real poses, Arshloch!"

He waded to a nearby rock grouping which he scrambled up to pose military style, hands on hips, one leg propped higher than the other and naked parts flashing proudly. "Check it out!" He called to the fashion photographers clicking him instead of Francis, then waved to reporters off in the distance who had been waiting to interview Francis but were now more interested in filming Gilbert. "People go nuts for a man in uniform."

"Quelle uniform?" Francis sputtered confused, his former sexy bedroom eyes now wide with disbelief.

"My bird helmet, of course." Gilbert gestured to his yellow bird pet nestled in his hair.

"Mais, how is cette bird protective?"

"You wish to know? Gilbird, show him your AWESOME protectiveness. Go!"

At Gilbert's order the bird promptly flew over to Francis and blitzed him with bird droppings. 

"Hee hee hee. Now you have helmet, lying bruder slanderer. I'll drown you!" He dove off the rocks and swam for Francis, but by then Ludwig had arrived thanks to Mathew's frantic texts. 

"No Bruder, don't touch him!" Ludwig called from the cliff Gilbert had dived off of. "You will only make more scandal for me."

Gilbert stopped swimming mere inches from Francis, and shrugged. His bird meanwhile flew up to greet Ludwig as that man held up a huge beer stein. "I'll drink this if you join me now." Ludwig offered. 

Gilbert brightened, red eyes thrilled at the sight. "You drink beer again at last, Bruder? Wunderbar! Awesome me has cured you." He hooted, and waded out of the water to where Matthew held out a fancy red robe.

“Hé! Cette ma Hermes robe." Francis sputtered, more distressed by its loss and the bird droppings in his hair than his near death experience. But his photo shoot from hell was about to get far worse.

"America, fuck yeaaaaaaaaah!" Alfred sang out from the opposite cliff as he and a motorcycle came into view. 

"Ah Sheisse, what is this now?" Ludwig exclaimed. 

"It's Alfred! A-boot to jump my motorbike. Pancakes." Matthew fretted, and just as predicted Alfred gunned the engine and drove the motorbike off the cliff, did a bar handstand mid flight to best show off his American Flag themed superhero costume, then released the bike in plenty of time to hit the water alone and surface safely. 

“I’m the hero, whoo hooo!” Ecstatic Alfred waved at the photographers and reporters now filming him as they had Gilbert. 

“Alfred, my bike!” Matthew blubbered at the sight of his bike crashed on the rocks.

“Sorry Matty, but I had to save it from the ridicule of your installing a lame eco electric motor. It preferred the hero’s death, trust me. Besides, you let the Frenchy French fuck in here to mess with MY Tony.” He referred to his King Salmon pet Francis posed with earlier, then turned enraged blue eyes at the French fuck in question. 

“Frère Alfred. We meet at last.” Francis held out a hand, which strong Alfred clasped in a death grip. “Ow, frère Alfred. This hurts.” 

“Fuck yeah this hurts. And no way will I ever be frère to you, Frère Jacques freak!” Alfred started to drag him towards the open water. “You lied to Matty, and spread lies about Ludwig AND my crush Arthur. So now we’re going for a ride, a whale ride! Since you like touching my pet fish so much. Oh, Whale Dude!” He called out to his biggest fish friend, whose whale outline immediately bubbled into view not far out from where Alfred was dragging Francis. 

“Alfred Halt!” Ludwig called down to him and started stripping off his travel coat. 

“No I won’t halt, Ludwig. You’ll have to stop me. Too bad about your flight back to L.A.” He discreetly winked at Gilbert as he said it, and both smiled with satisfaction when Ludwig dove off the cliff to rescue Francis. But of course, this was by no means the end of their shenanigans. 

“Huh? What are you a-boot to do now?” Matthew asked Gilbert when that man took off running for the beach, Francis’ red robe flapping behind him like a cape mere seconds after Ludwig had waded both Alfred and Francis back to shore by the scruffs of their necks.

“You will see, Matty. Und it will be awesome!” Was Gilbert’s screeched response as he snatched the bedraggled Frenchman from Ludwig and ran off with him into the woods. 

“I’ll see, Gilbert? I think I’ve seen too much already.” Matthew covered his eyes at Gilbert and Francis’ nakedness, while the reporters and photographers all around him exhibited the opposite response and took off after Gilbert and Francis with their cameras in hot pursuit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred took one look at smirking, long haired, grizzle chinned actor Francis Bonnefoy holding a press conference and immediately wanted to strangle him. NOT in a sexy way.

_Bring. Bring._

 _ _The landline phone at Dr. Edelstein’s rang to wake Arthur from his chin on chest nap. Groggily he looked around for Feli to answer, but only heard strange running and yelling noises outside. “Hmm, that’s weird.” He muttered, then velcroed himself into his gate trainer to shakily cross the room and peek out a window. There he saw Feli dressed in a flouncy dress and wielding a skillet at terrified paparazzi running for their cars. “Ah. Dr. Edelstein’s skillet wielding housekeeper bodyguard must still be on holiday.” He muttered some more, then furrowed his brows at the phone when that rang again and Feli was too busy to answer. “Dr. Edelstein’s residence.” He picked up at last.__

__“Squidgy, it’s you.” Dylan, his second oldest brother from Wales, sounded deeply concerned._ _

__“Quite so, it’s me. Who else? And what rot has you sounding so worried, Dyl-Arse?”_ _

__“Oh the usual rot, Squidge-Bum. Tabloid media lies. More Bonnefoy bombshells.”_ _

__“Such as?”_ _

__“Claims you’ve been injured on purpose, kidnapped, engaged. Are any of these claims true?”_ _

__“Certainly not, Dyl-Arse! What utter rubbish. For Christ’s sake, can’t a brain injured man putter about blacked out rooms on bloody toddler reins for one week without being harassed?”_ _

__“Not if that man’s a Kirkland, Squidge-Bum. As you well know.”_ _

__“Yes, just so.” Arthur sighed, and massaged the stress furrows between his unkempt eyebrows. “Well, regardless. It’s good to hear your voice Dyl.”_ _

__“And you Squidge, as your phone was off for a while.”_ _

__“To prevent seizures, just as the doctor informed you.”_ _

__“That would be Doctor Beilschmidt? The doctor Bonnefoy claims kidnapped him and now you?”_ _

__“Ha hmmm.” Arthur let slip a chuckle at that, and ruffled his clean but unruly blonde hair. “Bonnefoy wishes, as Beilshmidt is an excellent doctor who has seen me through a lot. In fact, I couldn’t have toddler reined myself across the room and answered this phone without his tough rehabilitation training. But I imagine it’s safe to say Bonnefoy was not an adherent patient when he was with Ludwig. And that his brain injuries stemmed more from drug use than hurling himself at a frozen shrubbery like a right plonker.” Arthur quipped much to Dylan’s surprised amusement._ _

__“Was that a joke, Squidge-Bum?” Dylan exclaimed. “I expected you to sound as weak as your milk tea after all you’ve been through. But instead you sound strangely... cheeky? May I say?”_ _

__“No, you don’t say!” Arthur blurted out and felt himself blush bright red._ _

__“Ah! I very much do say, as I detect a hint of sexy Alfred F. Jones influence in your cheeky manner. Similar to the way Alistair couldn’t stop smiling and blushing for weeks each time he returned from Alaska.”_ _

__“Gotta go, Dyl-Arse. Feel a seizure coming on.”_ _

__“So it is true! You’ve fallen in love with the American same as Alistair did. Admit it, Arthur.”_ _

__“Oh sod off.” Arthur hung up on Dylan’s laughter, then shakily crossed the room to remove his gait trainer, sit, and rest his flushed head against the cool table where the separate pieces of his child’s tea set lay overturned. After his embarrassment died down he thought of lapping up the tea he’d spilled earlier, he was that desperate for caffeine, but then Feli flounced in from outside. “Ah, Feli. Scared the paparazzi off did we?” Feli nodded proudly and plonked his skillet weapon on the table same as the lunch dishes he’d served earlier. “Well skillet plonking aside, brilliant work. That said I think a break is in order. The usual, shall we say? After you fetch me some tea?”_ _

__Feli nodded enthusiastically, was quick to fetch lukewarm tea in a spill proof cup and himself some warmed up leftover pasta before he settled next to Arthur on a sofa in front of Dr. Edelstein’s television. As the two had days ago figured out the dim brightness and quiet volume settings Arthur could tolerate, neither worried that watching a local news program would trigger a seizure. But no sooner had the show began..._ _

__“Breaking news. Star Hero Post Inlet was the scene of major commotion this afternoon, as two local residents, Alfred F. Jones, the port’s owner, and Gilbert Beilschmidt, Paramedic, crashed the photo shoot of internationally acclaimed actor Francis Bonnefoy...”_ _

__“Wot?” Arthur couldn’t believe his shocked eyes, nor could Feli, as images of naked Gilbert and Francis with their private parts blurred, and costumed Alfred flashed across the dim screen._ _

__“...the two crashed the photo shoot by way of naked cliff diving and motorcycle cliff jumping…”_ _

__Arthur shot to his feet, anger adrenaline surging and all former shakiness gone at the sight of Alfred’s dangerous antics._ _

__“...then proceeded to bombard the actor with wacky hijinks...”_ _

__Arthur couldn’t work the remote fast enough to brighten the screen and turn up the volume as naked Gilbert was shown chasing naked Francis through the woods with a soiled luxury robe, then costumed Alfred was shown twirling a buffalo overhead several times before hurling it at Francis._ _

__“...the buffalo, of course, is Stars and Bars own Buffalo Blue, formerly of the Stars and Bars Circus, who though retired and now living at Star Hero Post Animal Sanctuary, still likes a good twirl now and again. However, Buffalo Blue wasn’t the only wildlife employed by Jones and Beilschmidt in bombarding actor Francis Bonnefoy...” Images of a whale swimming near Francis and a yellow bird showering him with droppings filled the dim screen. “...but luckily for the actor, our very own local hero, Dr. Ludwig Beilschmidt, was on hand to run interference…”_ _

__“Eeeeeeeee!” Feli jumped up himself and wailed in concern at footage of Ludwig’s cliff diving and buffalo blocking, but then clips of Ludwig treating Francis at his ambulance was shown followed by clips of Gilbert and Alfred posing on the ambulance roof while waving jovially to the cameras closed out the news segment._ _

__“It’s alright, Feli. Our boys are safe, as well as Bonnefoy and that Albino git.” Arthur heard his own voice saying once the initial shock wore off, and he was chuffed to discover he was the one standing firmly while sniveling, clutching Feli was near to collapse. How the tables had turned. Arthur was now the caregiver and couldn’t get his gait trainer away fast enough. “Right.” He relished the loud BANG of the metal frame hitting the floor when he shoved it aside."We Uber ourselves to them, yeah?"_ _

__"Vay? But how do we know where they are?" Feli sniveled._ _

__"Ah. As to that, I have a pretty good idea…_ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred took one look at smirking, long haired, grizzle chinned actor Francis Bonnefoy holding a press conference and immediately wanted to strangle him. NOT in a sexy way.

Stars and Bars Tavern was a veritable circus when Arthur and Feli arrived, with tourists whale spotting Alfred's whale friend from the tavern's roof, children petting Buffalo Blue in the parking lot, and the human stars of that afternoon's viral video shenanigans participating in an award ceremony on a small stage on the front patio while dressed in tavern motif sweatpants and shirts. 

"Cold? What cold?" Shirtless Gilbert and Alfred wearing nothing but sweatpants joked with the patrons seated all around them.

"What's a cold?" Alfred asked one coughing patron, to make Ludwig swear in German and haul him and Gilbert to the patio heater where he, Francis and Matthew sensibly stood. 

Then just as Arthur and Feli began to make their way through the crowd the tavern's owner arrived on stage carrying drinks to announce the contest results, and Arthur and Feli found themselves squeezed onto wooden benches between flannel wearing locals stomping their work boots in excitement.

"First, the runners up in Stars and Bars first ever Viral Video of the Year Contest. You voted, we counted. So without further adieu. Your Fourth Runner Up is... Matty Williams!"

"Whoo Matty! Represent!" The Canadians in the crowd went wild as Matthew was awarded a consolatory Blue Motorcycle drink to honor his crashed motorbike. 

"Third runner up. An actor and model who hails from both Paris and Los Angeles… Francis Bonnefoy!" 

No locals cheered, but a crowd of tourists catcalled orgasmically as Frances, showy red sweatpants tucked in fancy boots and one showy bright blue sweatshirt draped over another for a cape effect, accepted a local winery gift basket.

“Fuck-useless ponce monster.” Arthur muttered angrily under his breath. “Can’t believe I was ever engaged to him.” 

“Vay?” Still clinging Feli overheard and looked up to make Arthur flush miserably.

“Yes, it’s true. I was secretly engaged to Francis at one time. An engagement my family quashed and managed to hide from the press. Still, I suppose I will have to tell Alfred.” He blushed harder, to make Feli cock his red head in confusion.” 

“One time you were engaged? I’ve been engaged molte times. Molte, molte, times.” He sang out shamelessly, then forgot about Arthur to refocus on the award ceremony.

"Now for your Second Runner Up… Dr. Beilschmidt! Who will receive Alaskan Amber for a prize." The presenter handed him a stein of beer. "But this is THE TOWN'S prize." The presenter turned to Alfred and Gilbert, who made a great show of snatching Ludwig's missed flight tickets from his travel coat and ripping them to bits for the locals cheering benefit. 

However, when Feli saw the plane tickets he let out a yelp at the prospect of Ludwig leaving him and launched himself onto the stage. “Oof.” Ludwig exclaimed surprise when what at first looked to be a woman hurled herself at his sweatsuit clothed self. Then he heard Feli’s relieved whimpers against his chest and felt Feli’s concerned hands pull his travel coat tighter as if to warm him. And in that second Ludwig knew he was where he was supposed to be, in Stars and Bars with Feli, scandal be damned. 

“And finally, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Work boot roll please.” The presenter called for the patrons to stomp their boots in place of a drum roll, and they excitedly obliged as two trays, one containing six shots and one containing twelve shots partly covered by a cloth were brought out. "Your First Runner Up is… both Alfred and Gilbert in a tie vote!"

"Huh?" Both men expressed surprise at not beating the other out, and were awarded six Duck Fart shots to split between them while the covered tray was brought forward and the cloth whisked off to reveal...twelve shot glasses filled with bird seed and rimmed with smaller bird seed. 

"Which makes the first ever winner of Stars and Bars Viral Video of the Year Award...Gilbird the bird! Write in vote Gilbird the bird takes it!"

"Gilbird! Gilbird! Gilbird!" The crowd chanted as work boots stomped and Gilbird himself flew onto the patio to claim his prize.

"Well! Gilbird won. Bloody brilliant, that." Arthur muttered to himself as the crowd carried on cheering and laughing at Gilbird’s antics. "But even more brilliant, I'm not seizuring." He took in the bright lights and loud noises happily, wrongly considered himself completely cured of his brain injury, and headed inside the tavern to order a fragrant tap beer like the ones being clinked all around him when suddenly…

“Minty!” He stopped dead in his tracks and gawked at the mint colored, bunny shaped tea cosy from his youth that seemed to appear from out of nowhere and hover before his gobsmacked eyes. Then his still injured brain processed the note still attached to it, and a flashback of the most traumatic moment of his teenage life caused his vision to grow dim and his steady legs to buckle underneath him as strong arms hooked under his flailing ones to drag him somewhere dark, dozy, and smelling strongly of French cologne.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred took one look at smirking, long haired, grizzle chinned actor Francis Bonnefoy holding a press conference and immediately wanted to strangle him. NOT in a sexy way.

In Arthur's half-conscious mind he was eighteen again, in a dimly lit back kitchen of his family home, with party noises just outside the cracked door, and his favorite mint colored bunny shaped tea cosy on the shelf above him. Alastair’s brief spiky note attached to the cosy made him want to scream, but an angel’s lips were covering his mouth, preventing him.

In reality he was in the tavern’s back pantry where Francis had brought him, and was now kissing him. However, when Arthur lost consciousness completely Francis stopped kissing and started fretting. “Mon Dieu, mon Dieu. Ma petite caterpillar did injure himself.” Frances traced the still healing bruise on Arthur's forehead, then found and traced the IV site from Arthur's hospital stay. “Et pourquoi do you taste of cold tea instead of hot? Parce que you are...dying?” Frances bit the cuff of one of his sweatshirt cape arms in distress, then fell on Arthur sobbing. “Oh ma caterpillar. I only meant to weaken you, comme cette note weakened you before, and you accepted ma proposal. Please wake up and accept again, parce que I am bankrupt and near death myself, and death would suck!” He sobbed and sobbed, then compulsively stroked Arthur’s hair in an effort to relive their first magical moments. 

The day Francis met Arthur had been pure accident, or so he lied to the press later. In truth, it was Francis' opportunist machinations that had scored him entry to Kirkland House, and the famously wealthy Kirkland brothers that resided there, one or more of which he wished to seduce. But technically, he was only there to model a watch for a fashion shoot. 

This hardly put Frances off, however. While the fashion photography crew scoped out public locations inside the mansion to photograph the watch ad, Francis snuck off and attempted to pick the locks of every locked door leading to the Kirkland Family's private apartments. Then finally, one very old door lock succumbed to Alfred's machinations and clicked open. It was the door to the Kirkland's private library and...Arthur. 

"Thierry! Thierry! Come quick. Bring the cameras." Francis wasted no time calling for the stylist and crew, who wasted no time invading the small lived in space regardless of its current teenage occupant sputtering in rage. 

"Oi! This is the East Wing for family only. You fashion lot need to go back to the North Wing now! Before I call security." 

"Oh hon hon hon hon hon." Francis laughed along with the crew at the awkward teenager with hair as prim as it was disheveled, and a sweater vest as linty as it was expensive. “Le cocoon pour cette caterpillar de nerd, non?” Francis made modeling gestures first at Arthur, then at Arthur’s personal bookshelf piled with books, side table littered with half drunk tea mugs, and more piles of books on the floor within Arthur’s reach to make the crew scramble to set up their cameras.

“Cette chambre has a certain intellectuel langoureux appeal.” Thierry the stylist nodded, impressed. “As does the nerd.” 

Arthur however, was anything but impressed. “What did you say? What are you frogs croaking on about?” He sat up to leave the settee he’d been lying on, even shoving Francis in the process, but Francis stopped him by placing a firm hand on his head, then ruffling his hair.

“Non, non. Vous restez, my fuzzy, feisty caterpillar and pose with me.”

Arthur, paralyzed more by Francis' flirty eyes than his hair fondling, (from the age of nine he’d been a sucker for light blue eyes,) expressed extreme confusion. "Wot, me? Why?” 

Following Francis’ lead, the crew scrambled to take pictures as sleek Francis in his white suit and red shirt eased himself onto the settee, then half ruffled, half pressed Arthur’s head back down to rest on his lap instead of the settee arm. “Pourquoi? Parce que you are un fuzzy, larvae version of a Britannique, unlike prickly, grown Britanniques we detest. So we will work with you.” 

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows up at Francis in confusion until the stylist explained. “It is, how you say? In our contract we must feature a British model for this British watch ad. But we could not bring ourselves to hire one They were all trop prickly et uninteresting. Unlike you, jeune Kirkland, with the intellectuel langoureux appeal. Er, that is. If you are a Kirkland?”

Arthur sputtered all the more. “Of course I’m a Kirkland. I’m Arthur Kirkland. I live here.” 

Francis chuckled as he now stroked Arthur’s hair to keep him in place. “Bien sûr he lives here and is named Kirkland, Thierry. And if cette watch can fit his arm it should be named un Kirkland as well, non?” Francis took off the simple, yet expensive, lamb leather strap watch he’d been modeling and slipped it on Arthur’s wrist. 

“Francis, c’est parfait!” Thierry brightened. “What could be more British than a watch called Kirkland? Worn by an actual Kirkland, in a home called Kirkland House? I will call the watch company immédiatement. But meanwhile...” He gestured for the photographers to keep shooting, even as the watch on Arthur’s scrawny arm slid all the way to his bent elbow much to Arthur’s embarrassment.

“Shhh. Restez.” Francis calmed him, again with his flirty eyes and by stroking his hair. Arthur was so mesmerized he barely noticed when a stylist padded his shirt cuff to bolster the watch, then shoved a book in his hand. “Read, mon pet, as you were reading before." Francis cooed. "Such a sweet, nerdy caterpillar. J'adore.” Francis kissed his forehead, and just like that, as cameras clicked and flashed, Arthur wrongly fancied himself falling in love with an angel, and the angel with him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred took one look at smirking, long haired, grizzle chinned actor Francis Bonnefoy holding a press conference and immediately wanted to strangle him. NOT in a sexy way.

_Kirkland. By Burnham-Mulberry Watches. UK. ___

__Alfred couldn’t believe his bewildered blue eyes. Arthur? A Model? Astonishing!_ _

__Granted the ad was shot ten years ago, and teenage Arthur wasn’t wearing designer clothing or makeup at all from what Alfred could see. He simply looked like a bookish teenager at home, reading while lying down, with a simple yet exquisite watch strapped around a frayed white shirt cuff. The only stylized element to the picture, besides the unnaturally lit room, was a certain slimy besuited French freak, holding Arthur’s head in his lap, and gazing off to the right at a sharp angle while stroking his chin stubble._ _

__“No fucking way are they engaged. No FUCKING way!” Alfred finally found his voice to make Matthew drop the magazine he’d been displaying, and Alfred was quick to stomp on it._ _

__“Als!” Matthew whined. “You can stomp on that magazine all you want, but magazines everywhere feature this ad all the time.”_ _

__“Ja, Alfred.” Gilbert cackled between sips of beer. “Matthew only had to look a few seconds for eine magazine with that ad. Und it was a wedding magazine.” This only made Alfred stomp on the magazine more, especially Francis’ face. “Alfred. Das reicht! Enough! Sit and drink your Duck Fart shots. Before you bring Luddy.”_ _

__All three men looked from the picnic table they were seated at to where Ludwig and Feli sat close by, lovingly sharing an Alaskan reindeer sausage dish. “Aw crap, dudes.” Alfred quit stomping to slump backwards against the table. “It just doesn’t feel right, you know? Something’s off about this whole engagement thing. Something’s super off. Naw, wait. I know. It’s super-HERO off! My super senses are tingling!”_ _

__Both Matthew and Gilbert groaned. “Pleeeeeease, Als. Haven’t you caused enough trouble today?” Matthew implored, while droopy eyed, half drunk Gilbert finally gave in to letting his head plonk on the table. “They’re engaged, okay? Frère Francis said so.”_ _

__Now it was Alfred’s turn to groan, over the sound of Gilbert’s snoring. “Frère Francis my Frère Jacques ASS, Mats! He lied! He totally duped you!”_ _

__At that Matthew brightened, surprisingly, and reverted to his ‘never a good sign’ Canada speak, which Alfred always failed to notice. “Really? You think so, eh? ‘Cause I was a-boot to retest Francis’ DNA kit results, and if he IS lying, maybe the two of us could go on a date to Timmies for some TimBits instead of being brothers? Whadda you think, Als? Als? Where’re you going? Pleeeease come back, Als. Don’t cause trouble!”_ _

__Alfred had already half-stomped across the patio when he heard Matty’s last whine he not cause trouble. “Trouble? I don’t cause trouble, I’m the fucking hero! And heroes cause...oh, wait. What the fuck do heroes cause? I know, I know. Daring do! No, no, that’s not right. Something with deeds. Dastardly deeds! No wait, that’s villains. Villains cause dastardly deeds. No wait, villains just DO dastardly deeds. Heroes do...heroes do...hero deeds! Hero deeds! That’s what heroes do, and that’s what this fucking hero in fucking chief is gonna fucking do. I’m gonna FUCKING daringly do a FUCKING hero deed against FUCKING dastardly, francerly, Francis Bonnefoy. RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW.” He swung himself through the tavern doors like they were saloon doors from the Wild West, and looked wildly around for a flash of bright blue sweatshirt cape to strangle Francis with._ _


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred took one look at smirking, long haired, grizzle chinned actor Francis Bonnefoy holding a press conference and immediately wanted to strangle him. NOT in a sexy way.

_Squidgy,_

_Happy eighteenth, Lad. Hope you attend your party more than an hour. Aye right, as if you ever would. But do drink this liquor present Dominick and me left under Minty. Straight, not milk lined. You're gonna need it to be less peely-walley about us flitting off and eloping. Aye, we waited out of love for you, and got us a braw tea set for only you to milk sop out of, so be the adult you now are and hurry up to Applecross as soon as your Cambridge studies allow._

_Stair-Bear ___

__In Arthur's semi-conscious, disordered, French cologne infused mind he was eighteen again, and the note in his hand shook as much as his hoarse voice. “A...A....Applecross? Bloody...Applecross in the Highlands? Wot...those mountains with winds that blow you arse over tits every year, Alistair? You mean to live there? Bloody dangerous, that! Wot...live there? With bloody Dominick? He THROWS you arse over tits when you two fight. And all you two do is bloody fight, Alistair! Wot...him? There? I won’t allow it...I won't…I won't...I…" Arthur slid to the floor and started to scream, hoarsely. Then suddenly the angel was on him, kissing him to prevent him from screaming, rubbing his shoulders to prevent him from shaking, and proposing marriage over and over to prevent him from thinking rationally._ _

__

__Francis rubbed Arthur's still shoulders and tried once more to kiss him awake, but the hot tea breath and taste he craved remained cold. "Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu. Mais your breathing et heartbeat sont stable." He lay his blonde head on Arthur's chest. "Well techniquement, if I leave you now, I won't be leaving you for dead, mon caterpillar. No one saw me bring you here. Toute leur attention was on the bird. Mais…" His chest felt heavy with guilt as he extricated himself from Arthur and started to stand. "Mais, mais, pourquoi do I feel guilty when the potato kraut is your doctor. He’s to blame for everything. The L.A. press thinks him scary, now the International press will believe me and pay me a fortune. Mais…" He looked over his shoulder, past his own blonde curls through the crack in the pantry door where Tavern patrons clinked their beer glasses in raucous celebration of their favorite hero doctor Ludwig._ _

__"Cheers! To Luddy's curing all our kids from meningitis in time for Christmas! Santa Luddy! Santa Luddy!" The cheer spread throughout the tavern and into the street so fast within seconds Francis heard cars and trucks honking in time to it._ _

__"Meningitis? Ludwig cured children of this? Mais, I had meningitis cinq, non, six times. Why did Ludwig not cure me?" Francis clasped his tight chest at the awful memory, then bit a sweatshirt cuff as he continued fretting. "Non. He did cure me each time. I continued using needles non stérilisées after he told me not to. J'étais responsable. J'étais responsable...Je suis!" He looked back at Arthur. "Oh, mon caterpillar. Je suis responsable pour your weakness now. Ludwig had cured you, then I…" Suddenly he brightened. "Can Ludwig cure you again, mon caterpillar? Comme he cured me? Comme he cured des children? The town thinks this, certainement. Donc, je can hope. Je can hope.” He stopped fretting his sweatshirt cuff to blow kisses as he backed out the door. “I will fetch Ludwig immédiatement, mon caterpillar. See what I do pour vous? He will beat me probablement, and have me arrested, mais I risk all pour your hot tea kisses. Save them pour moi, only moi, until we meet again.” Francis ran out into the tavern to find Ludwig, leaving the pantry door wide open in his wake._ _


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred daringly does a fucking hero deed.

“Bright blue, finally!” Alfred at last spotted the color he’d been stomping around furiously in search of. In fact he’d been stomping around for so long he’d picked up a hamburger at the bar, which he now stuffed in his pocket. “You’ll be my victory meal, Juicy Lucy! But now it’s time for Francy pants to get strangled with his own sweatshirt cape. Showy fuck. DIE!” He ran for the color he’d spotted through an open pantry door, only to be met with disappointment in the form of bright blue tavern motif sweatshirts piled up on a shelf. “FINE!” Alfred growled, and helped himself to the entire pile. “I’ll wrap the asshole in these after I strangle him, write the word ‘FUCK’ on the package, then express ship him back to L.A. where his phony, cape swooshing, red pantaloon wearing ass belongs. Now where can I find Duck Tape?” He searched the pantry shelves, then dropped everything when his blue eyes hit on Arthur. “Arthur? Here? You’re supposed to be at Dr. Edelstein’s! What the..? Fuck! Shit!” He dropped to his knees to check Arthur’s breathing. “Okay you’re breathing. Good. Good. What to do. What to do. Got it. Anger adrenaline whatsit. That thing you said earlier, I’ll do that again. Get you up and smacking me like before. Now listen. Listen to me Arthur, so I can piss you off.” 

Arthur was in semi-conscious teenage heaven, fancying a French model was actually in love with him and wanting to marry him, while all the while the smell of strong French cologne enticed him...no wait. The smell of hamburgers? The smell of hamburgers now waffed over him? Where the hell did his French angel go? 

__“Ha, ha, ha, Arthur! You can’t die, dude. You still owe me a crap ton of money!”_ _

___That voice, that voice. Arthur knew it, only he wished the accent was back to being that of his French angel’s, and the arms shaking him were that of his French angel rubbing him, not this American brute laughing at him and threatening...what? What the bloody hell?_ _ _

____"Ha ha ha, Dude. I TOTALLY put a hamburger on your forehead! To cure what ails ya. Now wake up and smack me with the bag it came in. You know you want to."_ _ _ _

_____Wot? A hamburger on my head? Is that...grease? Bloody hell...grease? On MY forehead. Why, the bloody cheek of this American. Who does he think he is? Who the bloody hell..?_ _ _ _ _

______Fury compelled Arthur to crack his eyes open, whereupon he saw nothing but swirly blue stars at first, then his eyes grew wide at the realization he was twenty-eight years old at present, not eighteen anymore, and the man with starry blue eyes hovering over him was a true angel, not a fake opportunist angel that had called paparazzi to his flat the second they became engaged, and brought about Alistair's ditching his honeymoon to haul Arthur's ass home. “Alfred, I was engaged to Bonnefoy. I’m sorry.” Arthur croaked out, then sat up to make the hamburger on his forehead fall onto his perfectly creased trousers._ _ _ _ _ _

______Alfred only looked relieved at his words and conscious state. ‘S okay, Arthur. You’re back. You’re back.” He covered Arthur’s eyes with one arm to prevent a light induced seizure, then cradled him like a child with the other. “But you can’t eat my hamburger, ‘cause this Juicy Lucy hamburger of victory and me got a French fuck to strangle.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed as best they could against Alfred’s arm. “Wot, me eat a hamburger? Utter rot. And what’s this you’re saying about strangling Bonnefoy? Touch that diseased ponce monster? Well! Even if it is to strangle him, I for one won’t have you contracting meningitis to set off another Stars and Bars outbreak, Alfred F. Jones! You, lad, will stay right here while I lecture you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Lecture me, huh? Aren’t heroes supposed to get kisses not lectures?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Not heroes that crash their brother’s motorbike, git! Especially after Matthew so decently kitted it up with an Eco-friendly electric motor.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What, that lame motor? It was practically screaming to be saved from ridicule, so I gave it a hero’s death.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“The hell you say! Well I’ll tell you right now, Jones. I mean to have you replace it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Who me? Replace anything lame of Matty’s? You’re dreaming.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No, I’m not dreaming. You will replace the bike, and kit it up same as Matthew did only more Eco-friendly, while he and I supervise.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ha, ha, ha. As if!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You will, Jones. If it’s the last Squidgy thing I do. And another thing. That buffalo twirling I saw on the telly.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What? Buffalo Blue? He loves that shit! Ask anyone in this town!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yes, but, does your back ‘love that shit’ as it were?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“My back? My back? Mr. ‘sleep while sitting with his back ramrod straight’ is gonna lecture ME about backs?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yes I will lecture you, Alfred F. Jones! You worried me greatly. So greatly I Ubered myself here, and Feli to Ludwig because Feli was more fractious.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Aw! You two were worried ‘bout us? How sweet.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“There was nothing sweet about it, git! Or you, it would seem.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Aw, but that’s where you’re wrong. I’m sweet as pie. Apple pie! Just gotta kiss me to find out.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“As if I ever would.” Arthur grumbled against Alfred’s bare chest, wondered if indeed Alfred tasted like apple pie, became titillated at the thought, and Alfred’s bare chest, AND Alfred’s being a hero all day, mostly for his benefit, then finally gave in. “Oh, sod it.” He released his arms enough from Alfred’s cuddling to pull Alfred’s head down and...hot tea met apple pie. Explosively._ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
